A Faithful Friend
by awn
Summary: SLASH Sirius hastily awakes in the morning in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place 12 only to discover Remus is not by his side.
1. Part I

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter, all places and characters, the names etcetera belongs to Mrs J.K Rowling, her publishers (such as Bloomsbury Publishing Plc and Scholastic), and Warner Brothers™. All rights reserved. This is not meant as theft or insult—I wrote it for the enjoyment myself, and (hopefully) of other people. No copyright infringement is intended. I own the stories themselves.  
**Additional Warnings: **Slash. And Bible quotation—if Christianity offends you.**  
Autho****r's Note:** Happy Birthday, Emma!  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Word count: **Total: 6,639 words. This piece: 2,158 words.

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**A Faithful Friend**

_'A __faithful friend is a strong defence: and he that hath found such an one hath found a treasure.' _–Ecclesiasticus 6:14

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**Part I**

As suddenly and equally unexpectedly as a wine glass looses balance, falls over the edge of the table and shatter as it hits the floor, spilling out its contents everywhere, Sirius Black awoke with a start. And he would soon realize he was bothered by three things, three things which would, in fact, pester the remainder of the day. It would make the day unendurable for both him and his lover, and complicate the day for many different people in the Order of the Phoenix—though of this, Sirius was unaware.

Firstly, the windows of Sirius' bedroom was open, open although not ajar, but still open, causing chill air to leak into the door. True, Sirius had always enjoyed a bit of fresh air, but not in the midst of winter: if there was something Sirius could not stand, it was coldness.

Sirius had always hated the bitter chill, he loathed freezing: it reminded him of the Christmases of his childhood—the Christmases before he began studying at Hogwarts, that was. These horrible first Christmases of Sirius' life had all been celebrated in the very house in which Sirius was lying that very moment, in fact; being there did not make Sirius less depressed.

Cold and bitterness: that was quite an accurate description of Sirius' emotional state at that moment. He was forced to live at the place he hated most in the whole world, a place which reminded him strongly of his miserable childhood, the worst period in his life; of his insane, cruel family with their with their antiquated racist opinions; of the expectations that he would follow in his ancestors' footsteps and share their opinion. Ever since Sirius met his friend Remus he had resented their views completely: he had realized his family's bigotry came out of stupidity and hatred—and, of course, tradition: the Black family had proudly claimed to be pure-blood for centuries (even though they really were not, no family could actually be pure-blood any more, however inbred they were). The Black ancestors had always adopted these views and been very proud to do so, with very few exceptions. Sirius was, obviously, one of them. In the beginning of Sirius' first year at Hogwarts, for instance, many students—and most teachers—were convinced he would refuse to even speak to half-bloods, and hex 'Mudbloods' in the corridors; when he did not behave as they had expected, they were severely surprised.

During his first two years at Hogwarts, Sirius had slowly realised what his family's ideas and theories really were: crap. The real break-through had been when he and James discovered the truth behind Remus' quarterly diarrhoea and his constant urgent visits home. Remus was a werewolf, which Sirius' family—naturally—hated. At first, Remus had been very ashamed of it. He had refused to tell them and had been very reluctant when Sirius and James had told him of their discovery, but eventually, he gave in. He told them about everything: Greyback, his monthly pain and the Shrieking Shack(the place where he hid during Full Moon) as well as the tunnel leading to it. Ultimately, he had confessed the obvious: that his visits to the hospital wing and his mother were all lies, and that, during the times he had claimed to be at home, he had been transformed in the Shrieking Shack..

There had been a while before James and Peter had accepted the fact Remus was a werewolf: this discovery caught them both by surprise. But for Sirius, it had been different. He had always felt that his friendship with Remus was not the same as the one he had with James, nor was the fact with Peter—and, of course, in their sixth year, Sirius had realized he was in love with his friend, the man behind the werewolf.

Sirius had long since decided to define the werewolf as something similar to a disease, which reminded them of its existence on a monthly basis. At times other than these particular nights, Remus was Sirius' adorable lover, and—apart from Harry—the lone thing that made Sirius' life worth living. He could not help the Order of the Phoenix in any sense: he had to hide within his house. His Animagus disguise, for example—which would be so perfect, so genial, even the Ministry was unaware of it—was completely ruined: traitorous Peter had, most likely, already told his Master Voldemort about it long since.

Voldemort ...

Voldemort—the reason Sirius had to be so horribly scared, the reason he could barely sleep at night.  
Voldemort—the reason Harry had to live with his relatives, instead of Sirius and Remus.  
Voldemort—the reason Sirius and Remus had been estranged for twelve valuable years.

Voldemort's primary point of action was to dispose of Harry Potter, his main enemy and Sirius' godson, who had conquered the Dark Lord at the mere age of one, and whose blood had helped Voldemort arise again earlier that year. This action had spoiled the protection Lily had given Harry by her death, sacrificing herself for her son's sake, as her and Harry's blood was now flooding in Voldemort's veins. Sirius knew Harry was safe at Hogwarts as long as Dumbledore was there—but nevertheless he was still concerned with Harry's curiosity, which had got Harry into trouble before.

Something else that worried Sirius was Remus, his true love, the other reason he endured his life at the moment. He still loved Remus as passionately as he had done before he was sent to Azkaban; he had loved him passionately during his time in prison, too, even though he had tried not to. At that very moment, he had been heartbroken, as he had thought Remus was the one who had betrayed Lily, James and Harry—though it was Peter, Wormtail, who had been hiding all the time.

Christmastide was approaching surprisingly steadfastly, but Sirius still could not bring himself to be happy: Remus had recently learnt he was going away for a mission and that Sirius, consequently, was going to have to spend the holidays alone, as Harry was going to spend it at the Burrow—which, frankly, was a far less depressing place than Sirius' house and, therefore, much more suitable for celebration of the holiday. Sirius could not blame Harry for choosing to spend the holidays there, he knew that—though fact remained Sirius would have to spend the holidays alone.

#¤#

Today was the second to last day Sirius and Remus had together: late in the next afternoon, Remus would leave the house. Sirius wanted to make those remaining days as special as possible for Remus—he wanted him to find them qualitative.

They had made sure nobody else was coming into the Headquarters that day, so they were going to have the house on their own. No one had argued against their wish: the house was, after all, Sirius' property. This was, perhaps, the main backside of having given the Order permission to use his home as Headquarters: his and Remus' alone time was restricted.

Though today, no one was going to disturb their well-deserved moments in private.

Sirius rolled over to awake his lover with a tender kiss on his lips. Though that was impossible: Remus was lost.

Sirius jumped out of the bed on an instant, his slumber having left him rapidly. He left his room quickly after discovering Remus was not there; he browsed through the top floor of his home without success, entering every room as a part of the process. He searched every room of the third floor; Buckbeak looked questioningly at him as he looked underneath his belly—somehow, he had had the presence of mind to bow before the hippogriff before entering the room—but he did not find Remus in there, either. Sirius leaned against the wall, sliding down slowly to sit on the floor, his knees at level with his ears.

Could Remus have left earlier than he was supposed to, without telling Sirius in advance? No, Remus would never do that. He would know how worried Sirius would be if he did—if Sirius had done the same to Remus, his lover would probably be so horribly worried he would barely forgive Sirius.

This left Sirius with only one conclusion about what could have happened: Remus must have been kidnapped. He was, after all, a werewolf at Dumbledore's side, with much information about Dumbledore, the Order, and Harry—all those three were criteria of being a valuable treat for the Death Eaters. And it was all Sirius' fault: if he had just woken up when Remus had been taken away, he could have prevented it, and none of this would have happened.

Sirius leapt to his feet instantly, hurriedly but quietly went back to his room where his wand was: he had forgotten it in his room in his sleepy hurry; he cursed himself for being so foolish. He descended the stairs as fast though as silently as he could, careful not to get noticed in case the kidnappers were still in his house. It was not his own safety Sirius was worried about: if the kidnappers heard any noise in the house, they might take Remus with them instantly—or, even worse, hurt him.

As he walked the stairs, vivid pictures of what might have happened popped up in his head: he imagined Remus duelling with several wizards down in the kitchen; within his mind, Sirius saw Remus locked up in a cell in Azkaban; lastly, he pictured Remus spread over a table of stone, he was bare-chested, his pants ripped by his knees, his body was covered by slits and around him, several hooded wizards were standing, some with their wands high above their heads, some with blood-stained knives in their hands, the entire scene being supervised by Voldemort himself.

Sirius bit his lip, trying to prevent himself from trembling, and entered the dimly lit hallway. Soon he discovered the source of the faint light: the door to the cellar kitchen was slightly open, not ajar, only by a few inches, but it was nonetheless open. No sound leaked out of it.

Were the Death Eaters in the kitchen of the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, their main opponent, at that very moment? Where they, in fact, hurting his Remus? No, it could not be—not with Dumbledore's protection charms, at the very least …

Sirius went over to the door of the kitchen, his heart beating rapidly. The floor creaked slightly as he moved over it; he had to bit his tongue in order to prevent himself for screaming out loudly with terror. What would they—the Death Eaters, or whoever it was—do to his Remus if they discovered the presence of someone else in the house?

He decided to swallow any trace of emotion, especially fear, and count to five, and then, he would kick in the door of the kitchen, facing whatever dwelling behind. He had to repress his own nervousness in order to rescue his Remus from whatever he would see on the other side of the door.

_One … _Sirius considered which charms would be most efficient: Stupefy seemed to be most effective on this occasion, and it was also the charm entering his mind first. Although, if they were torturing Remus with knives and daggers, perhaps one of them would fall over him—perhaps they would even pierce his heart …

_Two …_ No, the stunning Curse was a very bad idea. He needed to think of something else, something that would not indirectly hurt Remus in the process, or perhaps kill each other—they deserved Azkaban: a fate worse than death—but should be effective enough to save Remus, and make sure the torturers would be sent off to a well-deserved life-time in Azkaban …

_Three …_ Perhaps the Cruciatus Curse would do the trick. As long as the Death Eaters would not take the case to Wizengamont, that was. Though that would be highly unlikely and contra productive, seeing that they would give themselves on an instant, be sent to Azkaban and thus revealing the lies of Fudge and complicate things for their Master—most intelligent wizards would, in that case, realize Voldemort was back …

_Four … _Sirius found his mind going blank: he was so scared and worried his thoughts seemed to go numb, his entire body was shaking. He felt himself panic, but instantly pushed the sensation away—he could not have himself panicking when Remus was tortured by the Death Eaters …  
_  
FIVE!_

Sirius kicked the door open, his mind at the ready, prepared for the worst—but instead, he found his Remus placing two bowls on the kitchen table, where two mugs and a basket of bread were already standing. There was one pot of porridge and one filled with tea on the stove, both boiling merrily.

Caught by surprise, Sirius had to grab the door frame in order not to collapse, thus falling down the stairs.

This was not what he had been expecting.

**

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Author' s Notes: **I know it' s been a while since I last posted something on line—but I' ve been occupied. Apologies to Celi and dalarose17, whose reviews I have unwillingly ignored.


	2. Part II

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter, all places and characters, the names etcetera belongs to Mrs J.K Rowling, her publishers (such as Bloomsbury Publishing Plc and Scholastic), and Warner Brothers™. All rights reserved. This is not meant as theft or insult—I wrote it for the enjoyment myself, and (hopefully) of other people. No copyright infringement is intended. I own the stories themselves.**  
Additional Warnings: **Slash.**  
Author's Note: **Happy Birthday, Amanda!**  
Rating: **PG-13**  
Word count: **Total: 6,639 words. This piece: 2,174 words.

* * *

**Part II**

Equally cluelessly and innocently as an innocent child, Remus gazed up towards the entrance of the kitchen, surprised by the sudden appearance. He saw Sirius standing there, awoke though dishevelled, clad only in a pair of boxers; apparently, he had just left bed.

'Oh, morning, Sirius,' he smiled broadly. 'Come down here and I'll get you some coffee. I know you need it.' He reached over the table, retrieving one of the mugs and started to fill it with the hot, black liquid. But as he turned around, Remus realized Sirius had not left the stair case at all: he was still standing on top of it, looking down on the old-fashioned kitchen, bewilderment written all over his face.

'Sirius …?' Remus asked uncertainly, putting the steaming mug down on the table. 'Sirius … What's wrong?'

Remus approached his lover, wanting to find out what his lover's concern was, though it was not until he had climbed three steps of the flight of stairs Sirius spoke.

'Do you have any idea how worried I've been?'

'What … what are you talking about?' Remus asked, climbing yet another step.

'I thought you'd been captured by the Death Eaters. When you weren't next to me in bed, it seemed like you were gone! I … I thought you had been captured by the Death Eaters!'

Remus made a motion to go up to Sirius, hug him, tell him not to worry, that everything was fine. But he could not bring himself to it; shocked by the things Sirius was telling him, he was too overwhelmed to move.

'And now, now I just found you here, down in the kitchen. No, don't come near me!' Sirius bellowed. 'I don't want to see you! I'm out of here,' he said, and ran out of the kitchen, into the hallway.

'No!' Remus yelled, skidding up the stairs speedily. 'Please, don't do this, Sirius! I'm sorry I scared you, but you can't run away! Please stop! Please!'

But Sirius was not in the hallway—though an enormous, black was standing on its shins, trying to open the door with its paws.

'NO! Please no, Sirius, please! I'm so sorry!'

It was too late; Sirius was already outside the house. When Remus got to the door to look for him, Sirius was—neither in his human nor in his animal form—nowhere to be seen.

Remus returned to the kitchen, took out his wand, sweeping it over the kitchen removing everything on the table but his mug of tea, his appetite having faded away on an instant. Asking himself what could have hurt Sirius so much, Remus watched uninterestedly as the pot of porridge emptied itself in the dustbin, cleaning itself in the sink.

The morning passed. Remus decided to spend it with the Daily Prophet, though the more he read of the newspaper, the more his dislike grew: the editorial, for instance, seemed to investigate Harrys alleged insanity yet one more time. On page three, the headline '_All_ is _well—why we shouldn't trust Dumbledore_' was written in large fonts—and, reading the byline, he realized the debate article was written by none other than the Minister of Magic himself.

Remus continued to read the paper, though he could not focus properly. Not that it mattered—the _Prophet_ hardly wrote anything of importance any longer—but he was restless and worried, deeply regretting what he had done this morning. He could not think of anything but his lover, and missing him hurt so much he had to make an effort not to fall down on his knees, screaming in agony.

He hated himself for deciding to get up earlier than usual this morning: he should have foreseen this. He should have awoken Sirius, told him everything was fine, and then he could have made him breakfast without Sirius worrying about his whereabouts. That way, Sirius would have been there with him; he would be there right now, and they would do something completely different than reading the newspaper—they would say good-bye to each other in a quite appropriate way. Things would simply not be like this. By this time, Remus and Sirius would probably have enjoyed a long and cosy breakfast, then they would kiss … they would have gone out of the kitchen, going up to Sirius' room … Remus could vividly imagine Sirius and himself freeing each other of their dressing gowns …

And this would not happen—Remus had ruined it all.

#¤#

He had made lunch for two.

It had been in vain, Sirius had never shown up, but Remus had saved all the food that was left uneaten (which was most of it, his appetite had not returned) to Sirius, preserving it with a cooling charm.

A few hours later, Remus was sitting in the living room with a nice cup of tea. He had one simple mug of tea only—not a cake, he felt not for it; he was not even in mood for chocolate, he was too depressed. He only wanted Sirius to come back. Remus had brought Sirius' cushion from their joint bedroom just so that he could smell it (the cushion carried Sirius' scent), and that actually soothed him a little. Though he still missed Sirius, and could not stop thinking of him—Remus now missed his lover so much it pained in his chest. As much as he hated the thought, Remus could not help but thinking of the fact he would be leaving once again in less than twenty-four hours. And, if Sirius had not returned by then, they would not be able to say good bye, instead leaving them with this conflict as their final conversation …

Remus resolutely finished his tea; setting his cup down at the saucer and went out to the kitchen. It was time to swallow his pride: he needed to contact Dumbledore. Surely Dumbledore knew of a solution to this—Dumbledore normally had a solution for most problems.

He put his cup and saucer down at the bottom of the sink, tapped them with his wand, and watched as the dish brush cleaned them, and as they soared to the plate rack, still trying to postpone the bitter moment of confession. He turned around to face the fireplace, resolutely taking a fistful of Floo powder, clearing his throat, throwing the silvery powder into the fire with a determined mind, then clearly said, 'The Office of the Headmaster of Hogwarts!'

The flames instantly flared, turning into a shade of emerald green. Remus leant forwards and stuck his head into the fire, the cool and tickling sensation sending out goose pimples all over his body. Suddenly, everything began to spin: it seemed like Remus was in some kind of vacuum; soon, he found himself looking at Dumbledore's office. Luckily, it was, apart from Dumbledore himself, empty—though the Headmaster was staring at the opposite wall, his back turned towards the fireplace, and, consequently, Remus.

'Er …Professor Dumbledore?' Remus began uncertainly, but the man could not hear him. 'Professor?' he tried once more, but this attempt was, also, fruitless.

Remus sighed, looking around in the circle-shaped office, before shouting the man's name yet one more time. '_Professor Dumbledore!_'

It was not until that moment the Headmaster reacted: he stopped humming, and turned around, his face expressing confusion for half a minute, apparently looking for the source of the sound; then, looking down at the fireplace, he smiled broadly.

'Oh, is it you Remus? What a pleasant surprise! Of what reason do you honour me by seeking to speak to me on this wonderful afternoon?'

'It is Sirius,' Remus mumbled, looking down at the floor in front of the fireplace. 'We … um … we had an argument this morning and he left. I tried to follow him, but I was in the kitchen at the time, and he was on top of the stairs leading down to it. When I had climbed half of the stairs, I heard the front door slam. I tried to hurry to go out an look for him, but when I went outside I couldn't see him, he'd probably already Apparated away when I came out … It's my entire fault!'

'You say he left this morning?' Professor Dumbledore asked, looking incrediously concerned.

Remus nodded.

'At what time, more exactly, do you think he left the Headquarters?'

'Around half past seven, I think … Maybe seven forty-five, I don't know really … I'd say between seven thirty and eight.'

'So he has been missing for eight hours, give or take?'

'Yes,' Remus mumbled.

'What did you argue about?'

'We … Is that really your business?'

'It might be easier to find him if I know where he went,' Dumbledore smiled. 'And besides, it might be easier for you, really, to handle this situation if you spoke about it to somebody.'

'I'd think I'd rather not –'

'Then I suggest you do not talk to someone, my dear Remus—it was merely a suggestion.'

Remus looked up at Dumbledore, who was sporting a faint smile, which would soon change into a stern expression.

'I encourage you not to leave the house; we need someone there in case Sirius returns. Contact me as soon as you can if he does. I will see to that someone will go look for him. Try to relax now, staying there is really the best thing you can do at the moment. Good bye; I hope the rest of the afternoon will be pleasant for you.'

'But … but wait!'

'Yes?' Professor Dumbledore looked questioningly at Remus.

'What if Sirius doesn't return before I leave tomorrow?'

'In that case, I suppose I will have to ask someone else to live at the Headquarters until he returns.'

'Oh.' Remus had half-hoped Dumbledore would let him off the mission and stay until Sirius returned. Then they would have some more time together …

'Though you ought not to worry,' said Dumbledore. 'I will send one of our best at it. Perhaps Kingsley, he is supposed looking for him already.' His eyes were twinkling now again. 'I intend on sending Fawkes as soon as I receive any news. I suppose you share any update about this matter with me instantly?'

'Of course, Professor. Thank you.'

'And, yes. There is one more thing I would like to say to you.' The Headmaster looked stern once again. 'I do not know for how long it is safe to use the Floo network for this kind of communication, Remus. Send me a Patronus if you need to contact me, I will send you Fawkes. Is that clear?'

'Yes, Professor.'

'Good,' said Professor Dumbledore simply, and Remus realized the conversation was over.

Remus withdrew his head of the fireplace and sat down on the floor; he had no idea of what to do next. He could not go looking for Sirius—it would not work, and someone needed to remain at the Headquarters in case Sirius came to his senses and return: that was pure logic, Dumbledore was right on that matter. Besides, Remus had absolutely no idea of Sirius' present whereabouts, so it would be highly irrational to go out looking for him. He could practically have Apparated anywhere it the world. It made much more sense to put this in the hands of Kingsley, or another expert. And if Sirius returned to and empty house, no one would know he was home, and—hopefully—unscathed.

The remainder of the afternoon passed slower than syrup passes through a straw. Remus spent a great part of it staring into the fire of the kitchen, and reading a book on defensive spells in the living room—though, as in the matter of the newspaper, he could not focus, the text seemed to float through his brain; he was unable to grasp it. When the clock had passed five, he decided to make dinner: he needed something practical to do, and if Sirius would come home, he probably would have eaten nothing—even the Muggles thought he was a dangerous convict, so he could not really go to a Muggle restaurant.

He set his mind on making Sirius' favourite meal: meat loaf.

Remus carefully inspected the potatoes after he had magically peeled them; he made them fly into the pot of boiling water on the stove, adding some salt. Then, he sat down once again, staring into the wall.

He had tried to settle down with books throughout the afternoon, but it had not been possible, for whichever book he began to read, he could not focus on it for more then ten minutes, then he got tired and put it aside. An hour later, he went out to the hallway, sat down, and stared at the door.

This was not what he had been expecting.

**Author's Notes:** If you are reviewing anonymously, please remember to include your e-mail address in case you would like a reply. Thanks in advance.


	3. Part III

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter, all places and characters, the names etcetera belongs to Mrs J.K Rowling, her publishers (such as Bloomsbury Publishing Plc and Scholastic), and Warner Brothers™. All rights reserved. This is not meant as theft or insult—I wrote it for the enjoyment myself, and (hopefully) of other people. No copyright infringement is intended. I own the stories themselves.**  
Additional Warnings: **Slash.**  
Author's Note: **Happy 43rd Birthday, Mrs Rowling—and Happy 30th Birthday, Harry Potter!**  
Rating: **PG-13**  
Word count: **Total: 6,639 words. This piece: 2,526 words.

* * *

**Part III**

Carefully, like a scared fox hunted by treacherous, blood-thirsty wolves, Sirius was pattering around silently a couple of miles away from the Headquarters of the Phoenix: his parents' house, which he hated even though it was easier to live there when Remus was around—and Harry had made the summer and Christmas far more delighted than Sirius had expected. With Remus at home, it was much easier to endure Kreacher's muttering and portrait of his mother's insane shouting, and even the house's constant reminders of his childhood and adolescence. But he still did not like living in the house he despised most in the whole wide world, and yet, Dumbledore made him.

Deep down, Sirius knew Dumbledore was right to make him live in his old house, not mainly because the Death Eaters were a threat to him, but also because a wide portion of the wizarding world thought he was guilty of murdering thirteen innocent Muggles—even though it was Wormtail's deed. Peter was also the one responsible for betraying James and Lily to Voldemort and thus responsible for the fact they were dead and Harry had no parents. And, ultimately, he was responsible for the twelve years Sirius had had to spend in Azkaban, away from Remus, too …

Peter was responsible for Sirius' vile suspicions of Remus being the traitor, that he had been the one giving the information on James' and Lily's whereabouts to Voldemort … Because of him, Harry did not have any parents and had had to live with the Dursleys for all these years … And, indirectly, he was responsible for the argument he and Remus had had this morning—had Sirius not been locked in, he would not have been so paranoid and would not have thought Remus had been captured by Voldemort.

Though deep down Sirius knew this was no ones' fault by his—everything of it. He should not have behaved like this towards Remus; he simply wanted to surprise Sirius on what would be their own, special day, and now, Sirius had ruined all of it. Would Remus be able to forgive him?

Could he return home? Would Remus still accept him, love him, crave him back? Would he possibly forgive Sirius for acting so inconsiderately?

Sirius started going in the direction of Grimmauld Place, his tail between his shins. When he was standing before the houses numbered eleven and thirteen, he thought of Dumbledore's words, and tried to calm himself down as he watched his house, his much hated and unwanted house, taking place between the other two buildings, pushing them apart. Sirius quickly leapt up the stairs, and then rose to stand on his back shins. He doubted for a moment or two—what if Remus wanted to be left in private?—but then made himself swallow the bitter pill: he pushed the door handle down. After all, the house was his property.

He opened the door, entered the hallway silently, and then closed the door after him; turning into human shape, he wondered where Remus was. Probably in the kitchen: it was nearing dinner time, and the kitchen was indeed the place where Sirius had left his lover that horrible morning. Sirius opened the door even more silently than he had opened the front door; so slowly and tenderly no one was able to hear it, least of all Sirius himself; and there he was, sitting by the kitchen table. He sat with his back turned against Sirius, apparently staring into the brick wall before him. The table was set with two plates, or at least Sirius supposed so: he could only see one plate placed across from Remus, he assumed Remus had a plate before him, too. There was a definite smell of meet loaf in the air—meat loaf was Sirius' favourite meal, and he realized Remus must have made it just for him …

Sirius starting descending the stairs rapidly, uncertain what to do next: whether he should call out his lover's name, go down to him, or remain silent on the stairs. He decided the second alternative was the best choice, so he went down into the kitchen as discretely as he could, and waited for a few minutes. When Remus showed no reaction, Sirius went over to sit on his opposite side, where the plate was. Remus was also having a plate before him—as Sirius had suspected—though it was empty. And Remus' face was hidden within his hands.

'Remus?' Sirius asked softly, reaching out to put his right hand on his lover's upper arm.

Remus flinched, looking up at Sirius. His face was wet, filled with grooves after his tears. For a moment, Sirius thought he would rage at him, have an entirely justified go with him for playing with his emotions—instead, he whispered, 'You came back,' and dissolved to yet more tears.

Sirius, confused by this reaction, awkwardly went over to Remus' side, and put a hand on his shoulder.

'Yes … Why wouldn't I return?' he smiled. 'It's my house you know, and –'

'Oh … OK, I can leave –'

'Leave?' Sirius pushed Remus back into his chair. 'Who asked you to leave? The main reason I returned is that you're here, stupid. Though, you may if you want to, of course … I'd deserve it; I've been an arse …'

'No, you haven't; it was a natural reaction. If there's anyone that's an arse, it's me. Though … you have to confess it was a bit irrational to run away from someone that's making you breakfast. And I've been so worried for you—what do you think would have happened if the Death Eaters got you?'

'Well … I wasn't rational—I told you: I was an arse.'

Remus rolled his eyes; he had stopped crying now. 'Well, the arse looks awfully cold in just its underwear. Does it want me to go fetch its dressing gown?'

'Yes please.' It was not until then Sirius realized how cold the kitchen actually was—and that he had left the house with basically no clothing at all.

'You should eat. I assume you haven't had any food all day?'

'No, actually I haven't,' Sirius replied, walking over to the oven. 'In fact … I haven't had any coffee, either.'

'Hint noticed,' Remus said, lifted his wand, and suddenly, there was a pot of coffee and a mug before him.

'Thanks,' Sirius smiled as Remus went out.

'Oh, if I where you, I'd put a heating spell on that food. It's been a while since I made it,' Remus said, and turned.

'Oh, sorry,' Sirius said.

'Don't be,' Remus replied, exiting the kitchen.

Sirius loaded his pate with potatoes and meat loaf: Remus had made lots of both. He added a liberal amount of sauce and then went back to his table, sat down and started eating, the food tasting deliciously good. He poured a mug of coffee and ate and drank with furious apetite, ignoring the fact coffee and meat loaf did not go well together. When he was on his third bite, Remus returned to the kitchen, wordlessly handing Sirius his dressing gown.

'Thanks, Remus,' Sirius said, stood up, and donned the gown. As he sat down, Remus turned around, taking food. As he sat down, he pulled out his wand from his torn robes, thought for a bit, and muttered, '_Expecto Patronum_,' and a giant, silvery dog emerged.

'I promised to tell Dumbledore when you returned.'

'Oh,' Sirius replied, realizing Remus must have contacted Dumbledore when Sirius had disappeared … Perhaps several members of the Order were searching for him at that very moment …

They dined in silence; Sirius did not know what to say, and Remus did not seem to want to talk at all. Sirius felt very uncomfortable, at the end he avoided Remus' gaze, looking in every direction other than straight forward.

When they were both finished, Remus spoke. 'What the hell was all that about this morning?' He fixed his eyes upon Sirius, looking intensely at him for several moments. 'Well?'

'I …' Sirius trembled, carefully putting his cutlery down at his plate in order to win time. 'I was terrified; I thought you had been captured. Hell, I worry all the time, about the Ministry, the Order, Harry, you … I thought you were captured by the Death Eaters. Seriously! And then I thought you'd left … that you'd left without telling me!'

'I'd never do that.'

'I know. That's why I thought you'd been captured. And Harry … I'm always worried about him, what if anything happens to him?'

'Nothing will happen to Harry, Sirius. Dumbledore is on Hogwarts, and so is Harry. And as long as Hogwarts has Dumbledore, it is by no doubt the safest place for everyone to be—and especially for Harry.'

'I know, but Umbridge is at Hogwarts, too. What if the Ministry –'

'The Ministry won't hurt Harry. They can't. Spread out lies about him—yes. Throw him in jail—perhaps. But they'd never, ever harm him.'

'How can you be so sure?'

'I just am. Come here,' Remus said, stretching his arms widely apart.

Sirius rose from his chair, going over to his lover's embrace.

'I'm sorry I scared you this morning,' Remus mumbled into Sirius' hair. 'I didn't mean to—I only wanted to surprise you. I promise I won't do it again.'

'And I'm so sorry I over-reacted. I ruined the complete day for both of us,' Sirius whispered. 'I was wrong to do as I did, you had done your best to surprise me, and I ruined all of it with my paranoia. I'm so sorry.'

'Me too.'

They simply sat there for a while, holding each other tight. Sirius leant his head onto Remus' chest, listening to his heart beats; Remus rested his chin on the top of Sirius' head, breathing slowly and heavily.

'Are you tired, Sirius?'

'Yeah … yeah, I really am.'

'It's been a long day.'

'Long and wasted.'

They went up to their bedroom, where Sirius undid the sash of his dressing gown and threw it over a chair, watching his lover undress. As Remus climbed into the bed, Sirius crept as close as he could, again leaning his close onto Remus' chest, almost instantly falling asleep.

#¤#

A few hours later, Sirius opened the door to his bedroom slowly, carefully balancing a tray in the hand other than the one he used to open the door, during this time trying to be as silent as possible—a very difficult task, that was. He cursed himself for closing the door when he had left the room earlier that morning: everyone with an adequate amount of intelligence should realize closing the door was stupid if one intended on returning with a tray.

It took him about a minute, but he finally managed to get the damned door open, and he could enter the room. He did not bother trying to close it.

He tip-toed over to the bed and put the tray containing some sandwiches and two large mugs filled to the brim, one with tea and one with coffee down on the night stand, and silently crept back on his side of the bed. He lay himself down on his side, planting soft kisses upon Remus' lips. It took a while to wake him up, but soon enough, he did. At first, he looked confused, but after a few seconds of recovery, he smiled, kissing Sirius back.

'I suppose you'd like some tea?' Sirius said, breaking out from the kiss.

'Yes … maybe a few sips … But those kisses were quite nice, too.'

'I'm glad to hear it,' Sirius said, leaned around to fetch the mug of tea. 'Be careful, it's well filled. And hot.' As Remus began sipping, Sirius helped himself to the mug of coffee—the third of the day, on his part.

'What time is it?' Remus asked between the sips.

'A few minutes past seven.'

'That's nice … We've got the complete house for ourselves for several hours, then.'

'Yes …' said Sirius, looking at Remus. Deeply drinking his coffee, he stroked his lover's chest with his free hand.

Remus groaned. 'I'll finish my tea as fast as I can.'

'You'd better, because I'm going to make this day as good as I can.'

'That sounds rather nice, really,' Remus said, now gulping down his tea.

'I love you, Remus Lupin.'

'And I love you, Sirius Black. And when all this is over, I promise you I'll be by your side. Forever.'

'Promise you won't get hurt when you go away.'

'I'll try. But remember, whatever happens, I'll always be there for you.'

'And I'll be here for you.'

Remus smiled miserably at Sirius' sarcasm of being trapped inside this house. 'As soon as all this is over, I'll come and rescue you from this house.'

'Here's my noble knight on his white horse.'

'And you're my fair princess.'

'Oh, shut up!' Sirius kissed Remus' cheek. 'But I do look forward to live somewhere else … And have you by my side all the time.'

'As do I. But, you know I'm with you even though I'm physically absent; you do know that, don't you? I'll always be your friend –'

'Stop that philosophical, romantic speech,' Sirius smiled, leaning in to kiss Remus once more.

Remus put his empty mug down between them, and moved even closer to Sirius; they moved closer until there was only the mug separating their bodies from each other. Then Sirius temporarily let go of Remus' neck, moving even closer and grabbed the mug and put it on the night stand—though, he was so eager he missed the edge and the mug hit the floor, shattering into a dozen pieces.

'Oh my, we're impatient, are we?' said Remus, and the mug mended itself.

Sirius shifted, thus coming even closer to Remus, stroking his bare shoulders and upper arms, while Remus himself untied Sirius' dressing gown, grinning wickedly, and giggled.

'What's so funny, Remus?'

'Well, while you were … gone … yesterday, I thought of what we could have done instead … A picture of us removing each other's dressing gowns was one of the things coming into mind.'

'How curious … Do you want me to get yours so we can fulfil your fantasy?'

'No,' said Remus determinedly, tugging on the sash of Sirius' dressing gown. 'That would take a ridiculously long time, would it not?'

'I think you're right,' Sirius said, pulling the sleeves of the gown down, tugging it from underneath his body.

Remus kissed Sirius heatedly, his hands roaming over Sirius' body.

The sandwiches lay forgotten on the night stand.

This was precisely what they both had been expecting.

**

* * *

Author's Notes:** Yes, I know it's been long since I put another story on line, but it will be explained below. Thanks to **unknooown** and **Serpent91**, who have reviewed the story; to my sister, and **Chivel**, **DeltaVT**, **hieressofanor** and **Koizumi Romi**, whom I assume have read the story since they added it to Story Alert. Thanks to any eventual future reader/reviewer—reviews are _most_ welcome.

**ANNOUNCEMENT: **I would like to announce that I am working with a project other than _A Busy Year full of Surprises_. As a matter of fact, I placed the final dot on the paper (yes, I do write my first drafts with pen and paper) on 24th July, 1:53 AM. I will be typing it shortly. The thing is that I have written for more than a year, thus, the story will be quite long. And I've written it all at once, for some reason, so it will take a while before the story is finished, I'm afraid. What I mean is that I haven't cut the story into smaller pieces than paragraphs, so when I've typed it I'll slice it into chapters. I.e I won't publish the story before I've finished. Hopefully, I'll be able to publish it this year—and that, when I eventually do post it on line, people will still read fan fiction!

Nevertheless, more information _is_ to come. I can't guarantee everyone will like the story, but I hope _someone_ will read it. All my future fan fiction will most likely be published here. Have a good summer!


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